Chameleon Soul
by Dark-Eyes-Of-Amethyst
Summary: Jim likes to think that everyone else is ordinary, boring. Even Sherlock will fall and break eventually, and then Jim will have no-one to play with. Then he see's her one night, singing the blues in a dive bar, and everything changes. Summary will change as the story progresses, rated M for later chapters. Jim x OC
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first attempt at a Sherlock fiction, I've got lots of idea's for this fic, and I'd really appreciate any feedback!**

**When I originally wrote this, I had Lana del rays Ride in my head, for those of you who want to know about the song.**

Chapter 1

Jim Moriarty did not frequent bars, much less smoky, sticky dive bars. Yet here he was perched on a tatty bar stool, turning over a half empty glass of whisky in his hand. He didn't know why he was here of all places, he could be in the most exclusive of clubs right now, instead of a shit hole like this. All he knew is that sometimes it was nice to be alone, just one more anonymous face, without having to listen to the whining voices of his staff and clients.

"Can I get you another mate?" Jim simply pushed the glass towards the barman without a word.

"You sticking around to watch the girl? She's good" Again Jim didn't reply, briefly considering killing the idiot who was interrupting his peace and quiet, he hadn't come to make conversation, nor had he come to watch some hopeless, second rate singer crooning into the microphone about their tragic life. Thankfully the barman had taken the hint and turned away after handing Jim his whisky, grunting something about a tab. Jim decided he'd finish this and leave, coming here was supposed to be about peace and quiet, now all that was about to be ruined by bad acoustics and a whiny singer, there really was no point.

Then he saw her, the girl, walk onto the makeshift stage with a cd in her hand (really who used cd's these days?) her face hidden by a curtain of black hair, handing in waves to her waist. She was not dressed for the chilly night, high waisted jeans, a ripped up crop top hanging off one shoulder and worn out sneakers. Defiantly not Westwood.

She was adjusting the microphone now and he had yet to see her face. She had sparked his interest, but he knew it wouldn't last; she was probably dull, ordinary like everybody else. She would only disappoint him.

Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice she had turned on the cd until the music started to play. It was soft, mournful, almost as if it was telling a story. She was standing at the microphone now, her head still bowed, really somebody needed to tell her that slouching really wasn't attractive. Then she finally looked up from the microphone and started to sing, and Jim forgot how to breathe. She was enchanting. She had all the makings of a Vargas girl, with her pale skin, plump rouge lips and her slim yet well-proportioned figure, but it was her eyes that captured him. Catlike, sparkling blue and full of sorrow, like she had seen too much of the world and was weary of it. He didn't know if this was just a pose to go with the act, an expression to match her voice and the music, but he knew something in him wanted her, wanted to make all the sadness go away, wanted to rip the heart out of anybody who had touched or hurt her before. Despite the anguish in her eyes and her voice, he saw a fire in her, something behind it all that told him she was tougher then she looked, something that would not extinguish so easily. He had been wrong, she wasn't ordinary at all, she was his she just didn't know it yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Standing outside the dressing room (and he used the term dressing room very loosely), after a hefty tip to the bar man, Jim tried to compose himself. He wasn't nervous, he was Jim Moriarty for fucks sake, criminal mastermind extraordinaire, and he didn't get nervous. No he just needed to prepare himself, he had been stunned by her out there (something he never ever liked to be), her beauty, her voice. He wasn't here because he was interested in her, god no. He just needed to see her, outside the smoky eerie atmosphere of the bar, in a shithole "dressing room" with no stage or show. He needed her to be ordinary again and restore some balance to his funny little world, where the only goal was the game. His and Sherlock's game.

Taking a deep breath, and remembering his manners (what little he had anyway) he knocked.

"Come in, its open" Damn, why did her voice have to be ridiculously sexy, that sex kitten breathy drawl, that some many try to emulate but so few achieve.

Closing the door behind him, he took her in again. She was facing away from the door into the little mirror, wiping all the makeup off her face, and she didn't even bother to turn around to acknowledge him. How rude.

"Who the hell are you and what the fucks are you doing in my dressing room" she spat. He blinked several times, that he was not expecting. He expected her to talk to him, be grateful for his attentions since so few actually earned them, even less deserved them. Then he realised, she did not know who he was, so she could be forgiven for that little slip up.

"You know, I would have anybody else killed in several different ways for speaking to me like that, but I'll let you have that one. It's not your fault you're so ignorant."

"Excuse me?, how the hell am I the ignorant one?" He could see in the mirror she had narrowed her eyes at his reflection. He was making her angry, this was fun.

Jim smirked right back at her " let me explain princess, you see if you knew who I was, you'd know that its not a wise idea to be so rude to me" he could tell he was pushing all the right buttons now, she took him by the surprise as she stood up and kicked her chair away, turning to face him. Those beautiful eyes were sparkling with fury, and he felt his trousers tighten.

"I know exactly who you are, some sad pathetic man who has nothing better to do then spend his nights in a scummy bar, paying the barman to get access to the singer, thinking I'm an easy fuck, that I'll take money from you for my services. Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart but I'm nobody's whore"

She managed to get close to him, practically nose to nose as she spewed her venom at him, and he was surprised by how small she was, her head was just up to his shoulder. She was damaged that was easy to see, mistrust and hostility practically radiated from her, someone had hurt her badly. Jim was struggling between reaching out and holding her, or taunting her some more, just to see how far he could push her. The latter won out of course.

"This is coming from a girl who spends her nights singing in the scummy bar? When I walk out of here darling I won't be coming back, whereas you, this is the only thing you have to come back to"

He felt the punch before he saw it, a sharp pain exploded in the side of Jim's face. She hit like a man, used to defending herself then he thought. He was equally quick in his retaliation, pinning her against the wall by her arms. Amazingly she didn't even flinch, her eyes betrayed no fear, defiantly used to violence then he deduced.

"For somebody so petite, you're very brave" He breathed into her ear, a thrill of pleasure went through him when he felt her shudder.

"And you're very brave to try and pin me up against here, I suggest you let me go before I break your arm" she whispered. That did it for him, the threats meant to intimidate him simply turned him on even more and his lips were on hers before he could stop himself. As he moved his lips against hers he was thrilled when he felt her respond, running her tongue along his bottom lips. He had pushed he even further into the wall now, pressing himself up against her, he could feel pushing right back, against his straining cock. He loosened his grip on arms. She was pulling his lips with her teeth now and just as he was contemplating whether he wanted to fuck her against the wall of on the desk-

"Fuck what was that!" his lip was bleeding, and he been unceremoniously pushed onto the floor.

"I told you to leave, now get the hell out of here before I make you" She was shaking, although he guessed more out of anger then fear. Jim didn't understand it; she seemed to be enjoying herself as much as him, he just stared at her, blankly.

"Did I not make myself clear the first time? I have no issue with sticking this in your face, get the fuck out of my dressing room" Where the hell did she get that penknife from? Standing up with as much dignity as he could muster, he turned to face her.

"Ok then princess, have it your way. But I'll be back to see you soon, I know you enjoyed yourself as much as I did"

Again she narrowed those pretty eyes, "don't bother, there's girls up the road you can pay if you're that desperate. Now leave"

Jim was barely out the door before it was rudely slammed behind him. He heard to lock click, then a frustrated scream and a smash. He chuckled to himself; it was nice to know he had gotten under her skin just as much as she had him. He would wait for her to leave, then speak to her again, make sure she got home safe. He didn't even get to know her name after all that, but he'd find out if it killed him.


End file.
